


More Than A Feeling

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Confessions of love, Implied sex but not explicit, Love, M/M, sensing love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: Angels can sense love. Which is how Aziraphale can tell that Crowley is more than a little in love with him. And Aziraphale, well, he’s got his own feelings for Crowley.





	More Than A Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Hey I love Az and Crowley so much

It is an undisputed fact that angels can feel love. Not feeling it as an emotion themselves, but feeling when other people feel it. Like a radar, only for emotions. They can feel other things too, like anger, and sadness. But love is the one that looks best on the angelic tin. 

Aziraphale didn’t know if angels could experience the emotion of love. He knew he felt every other emotion humans seemed to go through, though viewed through a slightly different lense. He also knew that even the antichrist himself could experience love, for Tadfield, for his friends, for his dog. So it would make sense, then, that angels could experience the emotion. 

It was just that, whenever he was around Gabriel or Michael or the rest of the holy lot, he never seemed to get a sense that they felt love towards anything specific. Sure, as angels, they were required to love the world, and all of its creatures. But beyond that, there was nothing. There was no love for friends. No love for special little restaurants, or first edition books. 

Aziraphale had been on earth for quite a while. Perhaps all of this exposure to humans had made him different from the rest of the angels. Made him able to experience love in a different way from just the overarching heavenly method. Because he absolutely, most certainly did feel love. Aziraphale loved lots of things. He loved sushi, and vintage wine, and cocoa, and the jacket he had had for 180 years. And yes, he loved Crowley. 

He still wasn’t quite sure of the type of love he felt for Crowley, though. It was more than the love he had for any objects. It was more love than he had felt towards any of his other friends, or towards the other angels in heaven. It seemed a step above platonic. But he couldn’t figure out what that meant. At least, not until the apocalypse. 

The apocalypse represented a time to choose a side. Heaven or hell. Angels or demons. But Aziraphale had never wanted a war in the first place. So he and Crowley chose the side of Adam. The side of peace. Of humanity. 

The moment when Satan crawled out of the ground was the moment he realized that what he felt for Crowley must’ve been more than platonic. Because, alongside the intense fear of seeing the devil himself burst through the tarmac of an airport, he felt regret at never once being able to kiss Crowley, or snuggle up next to him with a nice book. He had never been able to fall asleep and wake up next to Crowley and see Crowley’s mussed-up morning hair and drowsy yellow eyes. He had never been able to have a picnic with him, sipping wine and giving each other lazy kisses on a Sunday afternoon. 

Those weren’t feelings you just felt for any old friend. That was love. Aziraphale loved Crowley, loved him as much as he loved the earth (and then some). 

—————

Demons cannot sense love in the way angels can. They can pick it up, as a human could, since most of the time love is very blatant. But they don’t have a way of truly knowing how much love a person feels towards something. 

Crowley didn’t think much about love. It just wasn’t part of his demonic repertoire. Really, the only times he thought about love were when something or someone he loved was in danger. He thought about it when the Bentley was on fire, and his beloved car was melting into a pile of metal and rubber. He thought about it when the apocalypse was threatening the planet. But the time he thought the most about it was when he thought he had lost Aziraphale. His best friend. His confidante. Arguably his partner in crime. Aziraphale was the most important thing in Crowley’s life, and the thought of losing him nearly killed him. 

That was also the moment when Crowley realized that it wasn’t just a friendly love he felt towards Aziraphale. No, he was really, most definitely, most assuredly in love with the angel. That was where the distinction lied. _In_ love, not just _loving_ something. You could love a roast beef sandwich, but that was far, far below the emotion of being in love with another person. 

And, naturally, he hadn’t told the angel yet. Angels could sense love. Surely, Aziraphale would notice and bring it up. Wouldn’t he?

—————

Aziraphale had noticed. Almost instantly. Even before he had landed in Madame Tracy’s body, Aziraphale felt a shockwave of love pass over most of England, originating directly within his bookshop. And there was no way the books could be feeling an emotion, much less an emotion that strong. There was only one possible source: Crowley. 

It wasn’t simply love that Crowley seemed to be feeling. It was a mixture of love, fear, and an incredible sadness. 

And Aziraphale realized that Crowley was feeling it towards him. That his disappearance had sent such a feeling of love and pain through the demon, enough that he could feel it miles away. 

Crowley loved him. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly something one could bring up during the apocalypse. And, afterwards, after they had shared a lunch, Aziraphale had to spend several days getting his bookshop back into the organized chaos it had been before, since Adam hadn’t quite put it back together perfectly. So it was about a week after the almost-apocalypse that he was finally able to see Crowley again, when the demon showed up at his bookshop. 

Aziraphale was busy trying to find a place for a wide selection of Curious George books that Adam had left him with when he heard the bell on the door ring. 

“We’re closed!” He yelled over his shoulder. 

“Even to an old friend?” 

Aziraphale grinned as he turned around. “Crowley! How lovely to see you again. I can hardly believe it’s been a week since the apocalypse.”

“We can’t really call it the apocalypse, can we? Since the world didn’t really end.” 

“I suppose not. But what else would we call it?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet.” The demon took off his sunglasses and stuck them in his jacket pocket. “Might I tempt you to lunch?”

Though Aziraphale wanted to, he also had much more to get through at the bookshop. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’ve got quite a bit of work to do at my shop. Adam fixed it up as best he could, but he left me with quite a few books I didn’t have before. I’ve spent quite some time figuring out what to do with them all.”

Aziraphale could sense Crowley’s disappointment. “You can’t just take a break?”

Glancing down at the books in his hand, Aziraphale conceded. He placed the books down onto a shelf temporarily. “Fine, but I don’t want to be out for too long.”

They made their way to the Ritz, where a table had miraculously been free. While Aziraphale was eating, he could sense that something was on Crowley’s mind. Then again, he wouldn’t need to sense it. The demon was visibly anxious, tapping the table with his finger, shifting around in his seat, fiddling with the silverware. He could also sense the warm blanket of love radiating off of Crowley. But unless Crowley brought it up himself, Aziraphale wasn’t going to mention it. It wasn’t his place, if Crowley didn’t feel comfortable. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale began, putting his fork down, “You must tell me what’s bothering you.”

Crowley’s hand, which had been tapping the table in a Morse code message Aziraphale hadn’t quite been able to decipher, suddenly froze. “What makes you think something’s bothering me?”

“Because I haven’t seen you still the entire time we’ve been at lunch.”

“I’ve just been thinking, is all. About whether or not demons can experience love.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “I daresay they can. I assume anyone can experience love.”

A mixture of hope and concern crossed Crowley’s face. “But you, you can feel when other people love something, right? Have you ever felt love coming from a demon?”

“I have, yes.”

“What kind of love was it? Was it just like oh, I love being evil sort of love, or was it-“

“It was genuine, I believe.” Aziraphale interjected. 

Crowley didn’t stop the questions. “Which demon did you feel it coming from? I highly doubt Hastur or Ligur could feel anything more than hate towards anyone.”

“It was,” Aziraphale paused, only partly for dramatic effect, “from you. You seem to feel love towards a lot of things. Your plants. Your car. Lots of things.”

“So, you can feel when I love something.”

“Most of the time, yes. If we’re apart, the signal gets weaker, but generally I can tell what you’re feeling when I’m around you. Sometimes even before you realize it yourself. And I can tell how strongly you love something, too.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

“It’s like how I could feel how much Adam loved Tadfield even before I had met him. His emotions, given that he was the antichrist, were stronger than almost any other emotions I’ve felt.”

“What’s the strongest one you’ve felt?”

Aziraphale wondered if he should tell Crowley, or just let Crowley guess. But he wasn’t the type to do that. “Right before the apocalypse, after I had gotten discorporated, I felt an incredible burst of emotion that seemed to have originated within my bookshop. It was a mix of fear, pain, sadness, and love.” Aziraphale found it hard to make eye contact with the demon. “I assume that it came from you.”

“Yeah. It did.” 

Reaching across the table, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand into his. “You don’t have to tell me what it means, if you’re not ready.”

A smile crossed Crowley’s face. “Angel, it’s been six thousand years. If I’m not ready to tell you that I love you now, it’ll never get done.” 

“That’s probably true.” Aziraphale had held Crowley’s hand in the past, but never like this. It was always as simply a handshake, or a method of keeping warm. This was different. This was… comfortable. “I love you too.” 

“Glad to see we’re on the same page, then.” His smile went from fond to mischievous. “Though I wish we’d figured that out a week ago.”

“How do you mean?”

“When I invited you back to my apartment! Most of the time, when someone invites someone back to their apartment, it’s for more than just sleeping.”

“What do you-“ It finally hit him. “Oh! You mean you wanted to… Crowley, you sly old snake, you. You should’ve just brought it up!”

“I asked you to come to bed with me! I didn’t expect you to say no and spend the whole night reading in my office.”

“I thought it was just a friendly gesture! I knew you were tired, and you tend to move around quite a bit when you sleep, so I figured I’d just let you have the bed to yourself. Plus I hardly sleep anyways.” 

Crowley laughed in defeat. “So, what I’m getting from this is, if I want to get dicked down, I have to ask in the most explicit way possible.”

“Dear, we’re at a respectable establishment, I don’t think the other patrons want to hear that.” Aziraphale doubted that anyone else heard them, but just in case. “But see, now that we’re both on the same page, I know I don’t have to worry about being polite.”

“Well, good.” With his free hand, Crowley held up his glass of wine. “To us.”

Aziraphale mirrored his actions. “To us. And whatever the future may hold.” 

—————

Aziraphale awoke the next morning in Crowley’s arms. His head was laying against the demon’s chest, the rising and falling being an oddly comforting sensation. Slowly, in order to avoid waking Crowley, Aziraphale lifted his head and watched Crowley’s peaceful expression as he slept. His hair was tousled dramatically, and it took all of Aziraphale’s self-control not to run his fingers through it. 

With a grumble, Crowley woke up, his golden eyes still filled with sleep as he looked up at Aziraphale. 

“Good morning.” Aziraphale said. 

“Good morning. What time is it?”

“I’m not sure. Sometime after 8.”

“Ugh. Too early.” Crowley closed his eyes, rolling onto his side. 

“I should be getting back to the bookshop.” Aziraphale sat up, and moved to get out of bed when he felt a hand on his wrist. 

“Don’t go.”

Crowley’s statement sent a burst of love throughout Aziraphale’s whole body. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Work that can be put off until later.” His hand slipped down into Aziraphale’s palm, tangling their fingers together. 

The demon made a good point. Aziraphale slid back into bed, into Crowley’s arms. “I suppose another hour or so couldn’t hurt.”

Crowley kissed the back of Aziraphale’s neck. “Love you.”

Aziraphale brought Crowley’s hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly Az is a big mood. I wouldn’t be able to tell if someone wanted to get it on until they explicitly said it because I’m A) oblivious and B) forced by law to be polite to Everyone


End file.
